


Stay With Me

by suzannahbee123



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, Major character death - Freeform, Mild Smut, break ups
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-15 03:01:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18065327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suzannahbee123/pseuds/suzannahbee123
Summary: Every year, you and Steve celebrate your anniversary. Every year it gets harder until things finally come to a head.





	Stay With Me

_ Year One _

 

“Stay,” you giggle, nuzzling your nose against his and eliciting a low chuckle from the blue eyed man laying next to you, “stay with me!”

 

“Where else am I gonna go, baby doll?” He turned on his side to look closer at you, resting his face against his hands, “Ya got me all caught up in this prison, there’s no escape that I can see,”

 

“This prison” was the bed you shared with him with the pristine white cotton sheets cocooning you in the smell of orange blossoms and vanilla. The sheets provided a soft contrast against Steve’s skin, haloing him perfectly and almost making him look like an angel,

 

“That’s right, big guy… you’re in my prison now, and you’re only one year into a life sentence!”

 

Steve laughed as he caught your body against his when you launched yourself at him, pinning him back against the bed, “I don’t want to be anywhere else, Y/N! I’m yours, always,”

 

“Good,” you nuzzle again, placing quick kisses against his lips, kisses that became deeper and slower, heat building between you that had nothing to do with the soft sheets still covering you, “I love you, Steve Rogers,”

 

“God, I love you, too,” Steve wrapped his arms around you, letting you take the lead.

 

After your passion had waned, you were collapsed on his chest, trailing idle patterns on the perfect skin, when you looked up and smiled at him,

 

“New anniversary rule: you make me pancakes! Chocolate chip,  _ no  _ fruit. Calories don’t count on anniversaries, or birthdays, or Valentines, or Christmas, or-”

 

“I thought you wanted me to stay?”

 

You shrug at Steve’s droll comment, “I love when you stay… but I also love watching you leave, Captain Best Ass In The World!”

 

The sound of his rueful laughter was the best one year anniversary present you could ever want, as he did get up, (sadly) pull on some sweatpants, and head to the kitchen to make you what you were craving.

 

The two of you stayed in, watching movies, eating all the best food (that doctors the world over would absolutely say are the “worst” foods), and Steve stayed with you. He never left your side, that year.

 

_ Year Two _

 

“Hey,” Steve grabbed you around the waist as you grabbed ingredients from the fridge, “making you these pancakes is  _ my  _ job on our anniversary, remember?”

 

You giggle at the feeling of his morning scruff against the sensitive skin of your neck, and you twist your head so you can capture his lips with your own, “But, you’re tired! You only just got in at stupid o’clock this morning, and-” You argue breathlessly when you pulled away.

 

“And I’m a super soldier, remember, Y/N? Sleeping next to you is all I need for a perfect night's sleep,”

 

“Ugh, you’re so disgustingly sappy, I don’t know why I put up with it,”

 

“Because of my amazing ability to cook you the best pancakes in the world?” 

 

Steve’s lips were now trailing from your neck, to your jaw, and back again, making goosebumps appear all over your body,

 

“Ummm…”

 

“Or, how about because I know every place on your body that makes you make the most amazing sounds? Is it because I can make love to you better than anyone else you’ve ever been with?”

 

“You’re a super soldier,” you gasp as his hand slips under your top and moves towards your chest, “you're way too skilled at everything naturally,”

 

“Damn right I am,” Steve agreed, amusement clear in his voice, “in that case, I bet I know what it is,”

 

You squeak when he lifts you easily, and places you on the kitchen counter, immediately settling himself in between your spread knees,

 

“It’s because you make me the happiest man in the world. You make me want to come home from every mission. You know that you’re the one person in this whole world who has the power to make me stay… but you’ll never make me, because you would never change who I was, would ya, darlin’?”

 

Your lower lip trembled at his words, tears filled your vision and your airway because choked up with what you felt for him. You  _ wanted  _ to quip back something funny, something snarky to make him laugh and stop being so goddamn sappy this early on a Sunday morning… but you couldn’t because, even after a year of living together and eighteen months of being a couple, for Steve to open up like this was a rare occasion,

 

“No.” You eventually breathe out, “I wouldn’t change you for the world,”

 

“Good,” Steve kisses you again, “now, get out of my kitchen, someone has pancakes to make!”

 

“You do make pretty okay pancakes, Steve,” You sass as you jump back down and head to the kitchen door,

 

“Yeah, well, you ain’t getting any!”

 

You laugh at his blatant lie, and head out to your office to get some work done whilst he was cooking.

 

That year, you both stayed in for almost the whole day. Then, you met up with some friends and Steve went to a debriefing. The fact that he hadn’t stayed with you didn’t bother you, you knew he would come back and, besides, you had so many more years ahead. 

 

_ Year Three _

 

The images were fuzzy, like looking through opaque glass, or through thick fog and smoke. It wasn’t the distorted images that frightened you, however, it was the sounds and the smells…

 

The smell of smoke and burnt plastic and heated metal. The nausingly appetising smell of cooking flesh...

 

The sounds of Steve,  _ your  _ Steve, screaming in agony, begging and pleading with whatever foe he was fighting to let his friends go…  _ please _ , to just let his friends go… he would die for them, if only this monster would let them all live, and-

 

“Y/N!” 

 

You felt your shoulders being shaken in large warm hands and your eyes snap open to meet that lovely sea blue colour in Steve’s, currently that blue was as dark as a stormy sea with worry and fright for you,

 

“Wake up, Y/N, you were dreaming, it’s okay, no one is going to hurt you… you’re awake, darlin’.”

 

“It wasn’t me they were hurting, Steve,” you rush out, wrapping your arms around his neck and hurrying to pull him as close as possible to you, “It was you, they were torturing you and you let them because it would mean that everyone else would be safe,”

 

The fear you had been trying to keep pent up over the last year was now at a boiling point, you couldn’t control it if you tried. The last year with Steve had been hard. More and more threats would pop up out of nowhere, and off he would run with his merry gang of world savers to combat them and fight them off.

 

Every time he came home was equal parts relief and despair. Relief because, he was home and he was safe. Despair because, well, every time he came home safe and sound and  _ alive _ , less of your old Steve was there, more of the man you loved was left behind on whatever battlefield he had been on.

 

“It was just a dream, baby doll,” Steve murmured against your neck, his hands soothing over the skin at your back, “I’m right here, I’m with you,”

 

“You don’t  _ stay  _ though, Steve! You never do, anymore!” You could hear the crack in your voice, the break that you had never allowed him to hear before, and your heart broke at the look of shock that ran across those perfect features, “Please, Steve, just love me, just be with me, right now…”

 

Nothing else was said, just the muted hush of clothes being pulled off, soft gasps and deep moans backlit by the moon and starlight that came in through the parted curtains as Steve made frantic love to you. His body joined with yours again, for as long as he could make it last. 

 

Morning light came, bathing the room in it’s soft golden glow, making everything seem perfect again. Steve was holding you, gently running his fingers over your hair and tracing the planes of your face and your lips. 

 

“You hungry?”

 

“I  _ did  _ work up an appetite,”

 

The smile Steve gave you didn’t quite meet his eyes, but he kissed the tip of your nose and extracted himself from your arms to go to the kitchen,

 

“One stack of chocolate chip pancakes coming up. Happy anniversary, Y/N.”

 

This time, you didn’t watch as he left. Your eyes were drawn to the four walls of the bedroom you shared with Steve Rogers. To the cracks and marks in the paint that the moonlight had hidden or made soft and pretty. To the pictures of you and him on the walls, the pictures that had slowly dwindled over the past two years, until, if you two were to take a picture to hang on the walls now, it would probably barely resemble you anymore.

 

The lovely morning sunlight highlighted just what you hadn’t wanted to see. That this relationship was filled with cracks and gaps and both of you were ignoring them.

 

That year, Steve stayed with you, reliving your first anniversary perfectly, all movies and food and, slowly, you felt like you could talk to him about how scared you were getting… about how, maybe, he could retire…

 

Steve’s phone rang, James Barnes at the other end. Another mission. 

 

“You could stay? Here? They can handle one mission without you,”

 

“You know me better than that, Y/N. I have to go and I have to help. I love you, I’ll see you when I get back, maybe we could go to that new restaurant you wanted to try in a few days?”

 

You sigh, smile, and nod at the suggestion and moved to hug and kiss him goodbye, but Steve had already moved away. To the next mission that may kill him.

  
  


_ Year Four _

It had started out well. That whole year had, to be honest. James Barnes and Sam Wilson, for whatever reasons, had taken on more and more of the “Captain America” persona and responsibilities, leaving Steve to actually take some steps back. He still went to the Tower, still trained recruits and went on the occasional mission, but he was safer. His life was no longer in constant peril and you were a much happier person for it.

 

You had even been on your first vacation since before you had moved in together this year, he had surprised you on your birthday with a trip to Rome, and you had fallen in love all over again. He had sunk to one knee in front of the Trevi Fountain and asked you to marry him and you had absolutely zero hesitations in saying yes. You had thought nothing would ever make you happier than Steve Rogers. 

 

You were so eager to start planning the wedding, something small and intimate, but still kinda showy, in a quiet way, because, goddamnit, you were marrying the man of your dreams and you wanted to show off! As soon as you got back home, all you could think or talk about was venues, place settings, menus, dresses… It didn’t take you too long to notice that Steve wasn’t as invested as you were, and it  _ wasn’t  _ because you were becoming a bridezilla.

 

It was because there was yet another “world in peril” series of events happening across the globe and, of course, Steve had to help. The  _ real  _ Captain America had to be on the front lines and do what, apparently, no one else could.

 

You wanted to be the supportive significant other and smile and wave as he went out the door, to be the woman that he still believes you to be, the one that could compartmentalise and not ruin this relationship by trying to cage Steve and keep him indoors with you. You  _ wanted  _ to be that, because you  _ did  _ love him and you didn’t want him to be any different than he was… but you wanted him to be alive, as well.

 

The morning of your anniversary came, and you woke up to your favourite pancakes delivered by a half naked Steve Rogers and your appetite immediately became a more sensual type of hunger. The pancakes were pushed to the side and you pounced on your fiance, all food forgotten.

 

You had the day planned, and Steve was as eager as you to get things started and to head out for the day… until his emergency phone rang. It was then that you saw it, that look on his face, and the way those blue eyes became excited and lit up from within.

 

It was the mission that mattered to him. Not you.

 

Steve spoke in hushed tones, the way he spoke sounding more and more “Captain” as the conversation went on, and you scowled at the floor, hating yourself with every passing second. This was the fate of the whole world at stake, for heaven's sake. If the world ended, or whatever the fuck was potentially going to happen, then Steve  _ had  _ to go, you knew he would have to go, no matter what you said to him…

 

But your whole world started and ended with this man. Fear bloomed, sudden and full grown, and you grabbed his forearm, 

 

“Don’t go. Stay with me.”

 

Steve slowly hung up the phone, and looked down at you from his superior height, “Don’t ask me to do that. You promised you wouldn’t,”

 

“I know I did, and I really wish I could say I’m sorry, but I- I just- I have a bad feeling, Steve! Please don’t go!”

 

“I have to. I can’t waste time arguing with you, Y/N! This is who I am, and you know that!”

 

“And what about me?!” You finally yell, making him step back, “I am the one who stays behind, who gets to lose night after night of sleep because I can’t think straight for worrying about you!”

 

“I always come back though!” Steve moved back towards you, desperation in his eyes, “Please, Y/N, you know I don’t do stupid things, you know that I keep myself safe so I can come back to you!”

 

“Why do you, though?” You ask, moving away from him, “Why do you come back to me? I see that look in your eyes when you have to go, when you know there’s some major danger coming your way. I saw it just now! You’ve been trying so hard to keep away, but I know you! You will  _ never  _ give this life up! You want to be Captain America, more than you want to be with me.”

 

The words left your mouth, before you could think to stop them and you stare at Steve, hoping and praying that he will get mad, get  _ furious _ , at the outrageous accusation. That he will stay with you and hash this out, make you realise just what you mean to him. 

 

Except, he doesn’t. He just stares at you, his eyes completely hard, and he shakes his head, “If I’m not there to help, and the bad guys win? We won’t have a life to fight over, Y/N. That’s why I do this. That’s why my friends do this. So that people like you can live in your bubbles. I thought you understood that, respected that. I guess I was wrong.”

 

He turns from you, and heads to the door. You almost let him walk away… in later years, you wished that you had.

 

“Steve, wait,” You take your engagement ring off and hand it to him, “I love you, so much. I’m sorry that I’m not strong enough to be with you… but I can’t do this anymore. I thought you loved me more than the fight, but, I guess I was wrong, too.”

 

Tears shone in his eyes, as they did in yours, and he sighed, closing his fist around the diamond solitare, “Happy anniversary, Y/N.”

 

And Steve walked out the door.

  
  
  


_ Year Five _

 

You wake up alone, as you had for every morning, and after every nightmare, for the past year. You stare at the ceiling for several minutes, before you get out of bed and begin the morning routine you had forced yourself to get into. 

 

This morning was different, though. This would’ve been yours and Steve’s anniversary. So, your routine now included making the pancakes that he would’ve made for you. As you ate, you look down at the diamond solitare that glinted on your third finger of your left hand and sigh, thinking to yourself that your pancakes were nowhere near as good as Steve’s had been.

 

You clean up the kitchen, and settle yourself down in front of the TV, Netflix and snacks call to you to complete the yearly ritual.

 

This sense of normalcy and routine weighed heavily on you, the space next to you that should’ve been filled with Steve’s large and perfect body was mocking you, making you feel lonelier than ever.

 

Ever since that night, one year ago today, the world had been as safe as it’s ever been. The event that caused Steve to leave the house was ended, everyone was still living their normal, boring lives and The Avengers were little more than glorified security or police at this point. 

 

All because of Steve.

 

You look up at the urn on the mantelpiece and let the first tear fall. You would never know if your harsh words to him that night drove him to do what he did, or if your worry was a self fulfilling prophecy and he would’ve given his life for everyone, anyway.

 

When James Barnes and Sam Wilson had come to your door, both red eyed and exhausted, your knees had given out, you were only saved from landing on the floor in a heap because they had caught you. They explained what had happened and why so many times, and you still had no clue. All you knew is that Steve had been the self sacrificial asshole that you had always known he was, and now everyone lived in safety. Steve had died with your ring in his hand, and you would never forgive yourself for letting him go to his death thinking that you didn’t want him anymore.

 

Your eyes were still glued to the simple black urn, and you raised your hand to kiss the ring he had given to you to show his eternal love and devotion, 

 

“I know I wanted you to stay with me, Steve,” You chuckle, completely without humour, “but I definitely didn’t mean like this.”

 


End file.
